


threw stones at the stars

by Shining_star_rae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: BAMF Ezra Bridger, Boys In Love, Ezra meets Luke, F/M, Found Family, Hondo escapes Naraka just a tad bit earlier, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Season/Series 02, That's Not How The Force Works, but also to join the rebellion, it has lasting effects on the galaxy, it's Tatooine, or isn't it???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shining_star_rae/pseuds/Shining_star_rae
Summary: Ezra Bridger was fond of the pirate Hondo Ohnaka.This did not mean Ezra was stupid enough to think Hondo wouldn’t leave him stranded on a planet in the Outer Rim with just the clothes on his back and maybe a single blaster in an attempt to outrun local authorities working for some unpleasant piece of bantha-shit such as Jabba the Hutt. Case in point-Ezra was currently chasing after a ship as it took off into the upper atmosphere.Dodging blaster fire as he did so barely even registered.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 22
Kudos: 112





	1. Prologue

The radio was only supposed to be on at certain times of the day. Or more often, not at all. It was considered a distraction on the moisture farm. And listening to news from the Empire was not worth being distracted over. _Rubbish_ , his uncle would mutter when he thought no one could here. _Tragic,_ his aunt would sigh. Out in Mos Espa, whenever he had to go to town for supplies, the few places that could afford a holocaster and played Imperial messages were largely empty. No one on Tatooine payed the Empire any mind. Especially when it was forced down their throats. 

Now, if stations played music maybe then Uncle would allow the radio to stay on.

Music no longer played on the stations.

In any case, Luke did enjoy listening to the radio in the sense that it made him feel connected to the rest of the galaxy. Being stuck on a moisture farm so far removed from ‘civilization’ on a planet that often times felt like it was the furthest thing from the bright center of the universe was a lonely experience. Hearing news that there were others out there, even if it was something terrible, was important to him. It was why he so often snuck the radio into his room at night despite his Uncles rule. Flipping through the stations, hoping to hear the varied voices of strangers as they reported yet another achievement for the Empire or maybe some new legislation (every once in a double eclipse, Tatooine would receive a broadcast from the senate), made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t been since he was young. Well, younger. Uncle said newly minted fifteen-year olds were still plenty young.

But often times as he lay hunkered down in bed, no matter how compelling certain voices, Luke would continue flipping through the stations, mostly only hearing static, until he felt an urge to stop. He would stop. He would listen. He would learn. And he would come alive. _It was a beautiful thing to come alive_ , Luke had decided long ago. It felt like seeing fireworks on a night of celebration, which so rarely happened. It was hearing a sandstorm knocking things into the door and windows of the moisture farm and knowing you were alive in the middle of chaos. Blaster fights in bars between two outlaws or some drunken idiots. Fights with fists clashing against something flesh and bone, blood dripping from the knuckles.

Luke wanted to feel alive tonight.

He scrolled, flipped, and fiddled with the radio. None of them felt right, so he kept changing the station, going further and further away from the ones he’d normally listen to. It was a strange thing to feel the air thicken around him. Like a rope being drawn to full extension before a knife came swinging down. Luke stopped fiddling with the knob. The night grew colder. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

_Snap._

_“We have been called criminals, but we are not. We are rebels, fighting for the people, fighting for you. I’m not that old, but I remember a time when things were better on Lothal. Maybe not great, but never like this. See what the Empire has done to your lives, your families, and your freedom? It’s only going to get worse, unless we stand up and fight back. It won’t be easy. There will be loss and sacrifice. But we can’t back down just because we’re afraid. That’s when we need to stand the tallest. That’s what my parents taught me. That’s what my new family helped me remember. Stand up together. Because that’s when we’re strongest-as one._

The station cut into static.

Luke felt alive.


	2. Twin Suns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra opened his eyes. A boy, somewhere around his age, stood only a few feet away. His wide blue eyes shone with amusement.
> 
> “If you’re a thief, you’re doing a pretty terrible job at it.”
> 
> Ezra blinked, then scowled. “I’ll have you know, I am a great thief. Great!”
> 
> The boy shrugged. “Sure. What are you trying to steal then?”

Ezra Bridger was fond of the pirate Hondo Ohnaka. Everyone in Chopper Base thought he was a fool for doing so, but he couldn’t help it! The guy had a wicked sense of humor, was clever, did things spur of the moment, and had managed to live for years under both the Grand Republic and the Empire without being caught. Well, technically he had been caught many many times. They’d never been able to keep him, though.

Hondo had Ezra’s respect. Hondo was his friend.

This did not mean Ezra was stupid enough to think Hondo wouldn’t leave him stranded on a planet in the Outer Rim with just the clothes on his back and maybe a single blaster in an attempt to outrun local authorities working for some unpleasant piece of bantha-shit such as Jabba the Hutt. Case in point-Ezra was currently chasing after a ship as it took off into the upper atmosphere. Dodging blaster fire as he did so barely even registered.

“Hondo! You had better turn that ship around right now!”

_‘Ah, I am sorry my friend! This shipment is much too valuable to be in the hands of such a foul, slimy,_ terrible _smelling fiend as Jabba the Hutt. Not to worry! I will be back for you in a week!’_

Ezra jumped over a crate of boxes, narrowly avoiding a shot to the arm.

“When I get aboard that ship you better pray I don’t murder you!”

_‘Such passion! Oh to once again have the fiery passions of youth…the people, the adventures!’_

“HONDO!”

_‘I sense you are angry, my young friend. I will be back in three weeks instead! To allow you to cool off, of course. I will inform your crew of the many hardships we have had to endure this mission. If they offer the right price, I will even tell them where you are!’_

“Oh, I am definitely going to murder you alright.”

_‘…May I ask where you hid your lightsaber? Only to look! Of course, if I ran into any trouble I could probably sell-“_ the pirates muttering was interrupted by a loud beeping noise. _‘Ah, the hyperdrive is repaired! How marvelous! This droid is truly remarkable! Where did you find him again?’_

“From Naboo! You know, where the mission originally was?! And if you so much as touch my light-”

_‘Yes, yes. You will murder me.’_ The Weequay sighed. _’I am disappointed by your lack of imagination today, partner. Perhaps being on such a planet as this will give your mind much needed inspiration. Three weeks!’_

The comm became static as the small vessel jumped to hyperspace. Ezra snatched a rock from his crouching spot, throwing it at where he imagined the ship’s location to be. He ducked quickly to avoid a shot to the head.

The missions from Atollon had become increasingly dangerous. They’d only been there for a handful of months but having a base to return to after missions had already bolstered Phoenix Squadron’s morale, courage, and - for some – carefully planned recklessness. Hence the mission to Naboo. The Emperor’s home planet.

It hadn’t technically been a mission from any higher ups. Hondo had contacted Ezra a few weeks after the Weequay had escaped some prison on Naraka; promising information about a potential powerful ally for the rebels, as well as landing a blow to the Empire that wouldn’t necessarily be attributed to the rebels. Problem? Hondo Ohnaka had managed to escape Naraka on ship headed directly to Naboo and needed immediate extraction.

Hera and Commander Sato had denied the mission almost immediately. Naboo didn’t necessarily have the same blockades in place like the Empire had on Lothal, but it was heavily guarded, they’d argued. _It was also a vacation planet,_ Ezra had countered. In the end, Ezra had only managed to gain approval when Sabine, Rex, and an older Kiffar women named Nat’ali had backed him. They needed all the allies they could get, and information was valuable. Even if it came from pirates like Hondo Ohnaka.

Kanan hadn’t been in the room. Ezra didn’t bother trying to ask for his thoughts on the matter.

In the end, it had been almost a walk in the park to get past security with several faked licenses, makeup (courtesy of Sabine’s artistic abilities), fancy clothes (courtesy of Senator Organa from ages ago when different cells were doing undercover work), and a story about a family vacation. Finding Hondo had been slightly more problematic, placing a virus in Naboo’s networking system made to look like a program gone wrong had been even harder, and escaping stormtrooper notice had been the most difficult part. In the end, it was a success in that everyone had made it off the planet alive with another win against the Empire. (It would take weeks, possibly even months, for the Empire to unscramble all those files.) Unfortunately, Hondo, Ezra, and an old R7 droid had escaped on the one ship – out of the entire kriffing docking bay! - with several malfunctions and some _interesting_ cargo while Sabine, Rex, and Nat’ali had escaped on the transport ship they’d came on. Sabine’s ship had continued to Atollon. Ezra and Hondo had made an emergency landing on Tatooine for some repairs.

Repairs were quick, fortunately. Hondo knew someone who knew someone who gave them spare parts at a much cheaper price. However, this friend of a friend had failed to mention that they were also a friend of a friend of some who very much did not like Hondo. Who happened to work for Jabba the Hutt. Who Hondo had once stolen some precious cargo from.

Again, Ezra figured something like this would happen. He just hadn’t prepared for the fact it would happen on a desert planet with two suns. _Even Geonosis is better than this,_ he thought. It was fine, really. Who didn’t enjoy being shot at while running through unfamiliar terrain in an expensive, heavy, uncomfortable robe? At least he was faster than his pursuers. Now if he could just find a place to hide, preferably one that sold clothes.

Skidding around a corner, Ezra swung himself up onto a metal pole then scrambled onto the roof. This kind of thing must happen often with Jabba’s security. No one had even blinked an eye when the shooting had started. Granted, Tatooine was known for being an outlaw hub. Even for being in the outer rim _and_ part of Hutt space, its reputation preceded it. At least the rooftops in this particular part of town were closer together than on Lothal. It made it easier to not reflexively use the Force. And out run the trigger happy nerf herders.

He jumped down to the ground several minutes after the Force stopped warning him of danger. The persistent low hum quieting. Just in time for rooftop space to run out, too. Slumping against an alley way hidden in shadows, Ezra looked around. It was a marketplace, one that seemed less focused on mechanics and more on everyday necessities. He could spot imported fruits under heavily shaded tents, expensive drinks, and… _there!_ Clothes that blended in with the surroundings.

Double checking that none of his pursuers were in the area, Ezra ducked under the poorly hung covering. He really only needed some pants, a gun holster, and a loose top. But-as the sunlight glinting off a small mirror in the corner reminded him of the celestial dangers-he was going to be here for three weeks. _If_ Hondo kept his word. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and down his back, and Ezra could already feel the start of a sunburn across his cheeks. So what he really needed was a hat. His one outer robe would be enough to cover the costs-it had _silver_ threaded into it after all.

The Didyon manning the place took one look at the robe and scoffed.

Xir didn’t seem too think much of the silver. In fact, from what Ezra could make of xirs broken basic, silver was not deemed an acceptable trading unit on Tatooine. Which, really? Of all the things Tatooine did sell, black-market or otherwise, the one shop Ezra had to find did not accept _silver_? Fine, fine. Everything was fine. _I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._ The delicate Alderaanian green silk bug fabric of his under clothes would have to do the trick. It was times like these Ezra was almost glad he had grown up on the streets. Having to strip basically nude with only a few items and his imagination to hide him would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t had to do it so often.

Scratch that.

It was still embarrassing, but if Zeb were here, it’d be _worse_. The Lasat would have laughed for days at his predicament.

The pants were a little short, ending just above his ankles but at least the rest of it was comfortable. Ezra felt more secure with the bantha-hide gun holster sitting snug against his thigh, allowing him to put the blaster Hondo had offhandedly thrown his direction while shouting happily at the people trying to kill them. The white tank top was not as reassuring funnily enough, but it was either buy that with the brown and orange poncho or buy the thin sun-faded robe instead. Nothing else in the store was going to fit him. Ezra wouldn’t have minded the robe, but the poncho was _orange._ Of course he was going to get the poncho. Zeb would have laughed at him for that too.

Letting out a sigh, Ezra thanked the Didyon before leaving with the Alderaanian robe tied at his waist and a wide-brim hat on his head. The Didyon didn’t look up from where xir was stroking the Alderaanian silk bug fabric. What a weird thing to be fascinated by. Ezra hoped Senator Organa wouldn’t be needing any of it back.

The streets were still crowded as Ezra meandered his way around. He had no money, so therefore no food. He had no place to stay and no way to contact his family. Ezra was on his own. Again. Ah well, wouldn’t be the last time if he ever worked with Hondo again. Which he would. Even now Ezra could feel his anger at the Weequay slipping away. Everything Hondo did was for a purpose, even if Ezra didn’t always agree with some of the more morally dubious things. All their missions together had been a success in one way or another. Often times, Phoenix Squadron - the Ghost Crew in particular - gained more than they expected on mission’s with Hondo for all he sold them out or left them stranded. He was always in the right place, at the right time, saying the right things ( _most_ of the time…sometimes….not very often actually…look it happened once in a lunar eclipse, alright?).

Ezra had wondered aloud one time if Hondo was Force-sensitive. The Weequay had given a belly deep shout of delight. Later, Kanan had stated that though the Force moved strangely around him, Hondo Ohnaka was no Force-sensitive. Ezra hadn’t brought it up again, but he still thought about it every so often. Afterall, Hondo, for all his dramatics, was a pirate. And pirates knew the value of information. Hondo hadn’t answered the inquiry.

In any case, Hondo had first appeared in Ezra’s life when he felt as if he was being torn between two versions of himself. When they’d parted Ezra had felt centered in a way he hadn’t been before. It was no coincidence, their meeting. There were no coincidences, there was only the Force. That much Ezra had chosen to believe. Even the Sith holocron had been unable to convince him otherwise.

_Through the power of the dark side, you can control all outcomes. Anywhere, at any time._

Ezra scoffed at the thought even now. If the dark side was all powerful, the Grand Inquisitor should’ve been able to kill an untrained Force-sensitive and a man who had been being tortured for hours at a time without breaking a sweat.

_If all things are done through the Force, by the Force, why did it let its favored children die?_

_Surely it wouldn’t,_ the holocron had whispered.

Ezra shook his head. The Sith artifact wasn’t here with him. Best not to linger on it. More interesting would be trying to find someone to give him money. Or steal from. Neither option sounded particularly delightful. The area he had just walked into was crowded with servants, slaves, and suspicious characters. Ezra didn’t really want to steal from the former two, seeing as they’d likely go hungry or be punished as a result, and the lowlifes on Tatooine would be harder to lift from then on Lothal. Ezra had light fingers, he knew. He just rather preferred to keep all ten of them.

There _was_ something here though. Something that would help him in the coming weeks assuming the Ghost Crew couldn’t get to him before Hondo. He just didn’t know what. Yet, at least. The Force was whispering in his ear, tugging at his hair in the guise of wind. _Follow, follow, follow._ Ezra followed the pull, closing his eyes and maneuvering his body around, between, and occasionally under outstretched limbs. Once, somebody tried to steal the Alderaanian robe. Ezra slapped the offending hand and carried on his way.

It felt like hours later when the Force stopped its call. It was likely only a few minutes, but all the unfamiliar people in the market with their frustrated emotions and loud thoughts had been brushing against his mind, tugging his attention away from the Force’s guidance before he refocused with a hard shake of the head. Ezra’s mental shields were still weak in comparison to Kanan’s. It wasn’t like they’d been working on them since Malachor.

Ezra opened his eyes. A boy, somewhere around his age, stood only a few feet away. His wide blue eyes shone with amusement.

“If you’re a thief, you’re doing a pretty terrible job at it.”

Ezra blinked, then scowled. “I’ll have you know, I am a great thief. Great!”

The boy shrugged. “Sure. What are you trying to steal then?”

Ezra couldn’t help the quick glance at the vehicle behind him. It had some cargo in the passenger seat. _Groceries,_ he assumed, _and a few mechanical tools._ Food might be useful, but Ezra knew how to last a few days with the bare minimum. It wasn’t really a necessity at the moment. Water on the other hand – but it was Tatooine. Water was going to be pricey. Looking the boy in front of him over, Ezra didn’t see any signs of him having more money. Probably already used on the other things then. So what could he say? He wasn’t really trying to steal anything, but Ezra doubted the other would believe him. Maybe if…Oh, Sabine would love this.

“Well,” he began slyly, “I wouldn’t mind stealing your heart, handsome.”

The native’s cheeks reddened in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. It was like a switch had been flipped off. Gone was the confident teenager brushing off a potential thief. In his place was an awkward, shuffling boy looking down at his toes. Ezra thought the blond’s reaction was rather cute. He brushed the thought away.

“I’m Ezra. I was wondering if you could help me?” _Stupid, so stupid! Why did you use your real name?_

“Maybe,” he said, not quite meeting Ezra’s eyes. “I’m Luke. What did you have in mind?”

“Well-” Ezra paused. It wasn’t like he could just ask for money, after all. Nor did he have anything to trade. Ezra doubted Luke would want a piece of cloth from a place he had absolutely no connection to and couldn’t pawn off in exchange for food. “Do you- do you know any places I could get some money from? Like, gambling bars or something? Maybe places looking for hire?”

Luke blinked at him before looking away again. “You want to find a gambling bar? For money?”

“Or an odd job somewhere!” Ezra crossed his arms, pouting a little. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to gamble, but he was good at it! He’d had to gamble a few times back on Lothal when he was running low on supplies. Often when Imperial cargo was too risky to steal or when it was winter and too cold for people to be wandering around in the market for long periods of time. _Madame Slat’s,_ tucked quietly between two large buildings, was always open for business. Whether that be gambling or selling suspicious cargo, well, no one questioned what the Madame got up to. Some of the elderly guys who’d come hang out on the weekends, reminiscing their youth, had taught Ezra a trick or two. Using the Force here and there also didn’t hurt with his chances of winning, not that he knew he’d been using it at the time. But he knew now. Surely winning would be even easier.

“I know somewhere that you might be able to get into,” Luke said slowly, than more bitterly- “I’d mention a place looking for hire if there were any, but most places just use slaves.”

Crackling energy spread across Ezra’s chest just under his skin. It felt like something two steps to the left of a thunderstorm had suddenly gone off in his head. Flashes of the light side of the Force, followed by the howling of the dark. _Free, free, free. Change the path. Help, heal, destroy._ Ezra briefly pondered on why the light and dark side of the Force would be calling for the same thing when the sensation passed. All that remained was the hollowness left behind by anger and sadness.

He stumbled backward a little.

Luke’s eyes which had narrowed into slits, as if even mentioning slaves was cause for starting a fight, widened in concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Um-” was he alright? Ezra had never felt anything like that before. Even the Jedi Temple on Lothal hadn’t overridden his sense like that when it’d been telling its story to him. _Master and apprentice, young one. Together. One cannot exist without the other. One cannot open me without the other._ Open me.

“I’m fine,” he settled on. No coincidences, just the Force. He had been meant to feel that, right? People, human or otherwise, didn’t feel like thunderstorms or whatever that had been. And certainly, they did not feel like the Force whole and balanced but chaotic and hungry and maybe it wasn’t so balanced as it seemed but neither was it tipping. But where did the sensation come from, and for what purpose? _Free, free, free._ Free what? The slaves? Ezra didn’t have time to free every slave on Tatooine. The slave owners would just steal and barter for more of them anyway.

It was strange. Tatooine was a strange place.

“Well-“Luke stopped, as if there was no right way to go about what he was trying to say. “I can take you to the Cantina, they usually have something going on.”

He hopped into his landspeeder as if the galaxy were ending and only he himself could do something about it, like he was some sort of prince who’d had to train for this moment all his life. Ezra blinked. Luke twisted his body around so he could move his supplies into the back.

“That’s not really nec- I mean, thank you, but I can just walk?”

“It’ll take you a while and I don’t mind.” Luke looked up at him, flashing a smile. “Besides, for a thief you don’t seem like too much trouble.”

Ezra walked to the other side and wordlessly hopped in.


	3. Gambling Lives Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I, Ezra concluded, am in the middle of a freaking slave heist. Accidently. On my first day on this Force forsaken planet. And ruined it by having prettier eyes than the fake-slave. How is this my life?  
> Then he thought, and Luke is definitely not a moisture farmer!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of slavery, implied sex-slavery (but no one is a sex slave, I feel I should make that clear, this is NOT that type of story)

(A classic game of Sabacc consisted of seventy-six cards. Sixty of these cards were distributed into four suits - Flasks, Sabers, Staves, and Coins - with fifteen cards per suit. Cards numbered one through eleven where called pip cards, number twelve was a Commander, thirteen a Mistress, fourteen a Master, and an Ace was fifteen. Of the sixteen cards that remained, two were called Balance and numbered a negative eleven, two were The Idiot, a solid zero, two Moderations were each negative fourteen, a negative fifteen was on the two The Evil One’s, two were The Queen of Air and Darkness, negative 2’s, the Demesi’s had a negative thirteen, and The Star’s had a negative seventeen. The most important of these cards was The Idiot.

The rules were relatively simple.)

The Cantina was exactly the kind of place Ezra was looking for. Plenty of outlaws, ruffians, star pilots, and even a few wealthy travelers - who were all pretty shit at making themselves look poorer than they were - were scattered among the various booths. It was loud and hot and kind of hard to breath, but everyone looked to be having an okay time and were so focused on their individual tasks no one had bothered looking up at him. Which was pretty amazing. On Lothal, everyone would have glanced at every entrance made, sometimes just because nothing interesting was going on but mostly in case it happened to be Stormtroopers. Since, you know, Stormtroopers were _usually_ a sign things were about to get rough. But here, on Tatooine, where just trying to live was hard enough, no one especially cared because everyone knew to look out for number one – themselves – first.

A band playing in the far back right contributed to the lively atmosphere. Several people were swinging and dancing to the beat.

Ezra did another glance around the room, trying to sense if there was a particular game he should enter himself in. There were at least seven different types occurring but none of them particularly attracted his attention. The Force itself was doing the equivalent of a shrug. _Figure it out for yourself, youngling_. Which was great, technically, because that meant there were multiple paths in front of him and all of them either had the same consequences or benefits. What differed was whether these negative consequences or benefits happened in the long run or the short run. _I think._

He caught the eye of the bartender instead of finding a game. The green Rekk had finally glanced up at him despite obviously being busy wiping down glasses as he leaned against the inside of his bar, flirting with some human with cybernetic implants along the back of their neck. Already beady eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. Ezra didn’t mind. It paid to be suspicious in places like this. He made his way over regardless.

Luke shuffled along nervously behind him. Something Ezra only knew because Luke kept stepping on the back of his heels as they approached the bar. It was a little annoying, not going to lie. Even as a street rat on Lothal, Ezra had tried to never show just how nervous he was on a job. And this wasn’t even a job! It was a simple side quest in a much longer game. But Ezra supposed he couldn’t blame the other teen for not being as enthusiastic about the tavern as he was – though he had no idea why Luke had followed him in in the first place. Considering their short conversation in the landspeeder on the way over, it made sense for him to be nervous. Luke wasn’t the type of guy to do things involving potentially getting shot at or bodily harmed in other various painful ways. _Just a moisture farmer,_ Luke had said about himself. Ezra could believe that easily.

The bartender continued watching their approach. The cyborg turned to glare at them before facing the other direction. She suddenly wrapped a hand around the bartender’s dark green wrist, the other stroking a line down the Rekk’s face and leaned forward to whisper something. The bartender blinked. His cheeks flushed. Ezra suddenly did not want to go over to the bar. It was just as well when a voice called over to them.

“Hel’ios, chowbasa! Finally come to join the fun?”

Or, more likely, to Luke. Whose name is actually Hel’ios? Damn, Ezra knew he should’ve used a fake name. Oh well, too late now.

“Aten, sir!”

It said a lot about the relationship between Luke - Hel’ios? – and the older man waving at them from a crowded table in a suspiciously dark corner, when Luke lit up and immediately left Ezra behind to make his way over. Luke seemed to be an excellent judge of character, if Ezra dared say so himself. So, when Ezra glanced back at the bartender who was no longer eyeing him, he shrugged and followed in the other teenager’s wake.

(Rule One: there are two types of pot in Sabacc. One is called the hand pot, won by an individual hand. The second is the sabacc pot, which continues to grow throughout the game.)

The first thing Ezra noticed after he had made his way over to the group was the long sword – an actual metal sword! - laying in the middle of the table on top of various other objects such as a DL-44 heavy blaster pistol, a pair of burnt looking keys, possibly a bounty puck, and several folded pieces of cloth. In all honesty, the sword didn’t seem that attractive. The leather sheath was worn with mold growing in patches on it, the leather around the handle was literally falling off, and the metal that could be seen had obviously not been polished in ages. It was raggedy, probably a health hazard, and there was no way to tell if the blade that lay within was in the same condition.

Ezra loved it immediately.

Maybe it was because his first lightsaber had been a bit rough around the edge’s as well. A lightsaber-blaster hybrid made from rag-tag metal scraps lying around a singular ship was never going to be attractive to look at. Kanan’s lightsaber - beat up and scratched as it was - was at least recognizable. Ezra’s was a mess. One time before they had joined Phoenix Squadron, the _Ghost Crew_ had stumbled upon a jedi relic collector. Most of the stuff around the shop had been fake, but no one would’ve been able to doubt the Cathar’s knowledge about the Jedi. He’d found Kanan out for what he was because of his lightsaber. He’d taken one look at Ezra’s shaking hands around his, however, and laughed. Up until said weapon was ignited anyway. Ezra had been devasted when Darth Vader had destroyed it. He’d been devasted for a lot of other reasons too, like Ahsoka’s death and Kanan’s blindness and Maul in general, but he’d focused his energy on losing the blade. Even though it had been made from scraps, his crew had contributed and been proud of it alongside him. It only fit that the loss of his lightsaber symbolized the crumbling of their family.

He was so caught up in making ‘heart eyes’ – as Sabine would call it – at the sword, he completely missed the cue to introduce himself. Lu- Hel’ios elbowed him.

“Oh. Sorry. Can I have that?”

The adults around the table laughed at him.

“It’s a game of Sabacc, kid. You’d have to enter to even consider owning it.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah sure.” Ezra undid the Alderaanian robe from around his waist and held it up. “How’s this?”

The adults were no longer laughing.

“That-“ One of two Rodians sitting at the table stared in amazement. “That’s Alderaanian silver woven into mountain silk! That could buy a whole ship!”

Ezra blinked. “Wait, seriously? But the Didynon in one of the market squares-“

“Uhh,” the other Rodian groaned. “Hughes is the worst. Can’t tell when something valuable is right between his eyes.”

The others murmured agreements.

“You can’t enter it.”

Ezra glanced to the person sitting to the right of Aten. It really went to show how much Ezra needed to pay more attention to his surrounding area’s because one would think having Sabine as a crewmate would make him more observant of any other Mandalorian in a room with him. Especially ones that radiated patience as they waited for a hunt to begin.

Their voice indicated the Mandalorian was female but that was pretty much all Ezra would’ve been able to say about the person underneath the armor. Well, no. That was not strictly true. Unlike Sabine’s armor which was colorful and painted and not a complete set, this woman’s armor was practically gleaming in the dim lighting. A few scratches here and there but clean. Regal. Powerful. They were likely a more traditional thinking Mandalorian who had become a bounty hunter like so many of them had in order to escape from the Empire.

Ezra grinned internally at his analysis. Ha! See Sabine, he could learn.

“Why not?”

“Too valuable. We’re only putting worthless junk in.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like I need it.”

“You can’t put it in.”

Ezra stared at her, crossing his arms. The Mandalorian, presumably, stared back. It was completely unfair. They could be blinking behind that helmet and he would never know. Lu-Hel’ios shifted beside him. Ezra’s eyes started itching.

“Okay, what if I just put a little piece of it in?”

The Mandalorian tilted her head. “Very well.”

“No! You can’t - its value-why would you-“ The first Rodian who had spoken stuttered, looking terribly affronted. “You can’t just tear it!”

“Can, will, and-“ Ezra ripped a piece as long as his pinky from the bottom of the robe- “done.”

The Rodian let out an anguished wail.

Ezra shrugged and took a seat from a nearby table, taking off his hat as he did so. Hel’ios stayed standing. Aten grinned at him, revealing a golden tooth in a row of very sharp, nonhuman teeth.

“Welcome to the game, son. Tear a smaller piece and throw it in the hand pot-we’re using it for credits this game.”

(Two: each player began with two cards.)

“Never told us your name, son,” grunted a, well, Ezra didn’t actually know what they were. Their skin looked more like bark from a tree and several tendrils hanged from the back of their head looking for all the world like thin branches with dark brown foliage spread randomly across them. They didn’t seem to have a nose and though Ezra thought he could make out eyes where a human’s might go, he wasn’t sure. Their presence in the Force was also…different, but warm.

“Oh, right. Um, the name’s Ja- hmm. That won’t work,” he muttered. “Mircree. The name’s Mircree.”

The five other people sitting around the round table stared at him. Only people talking around the rest of the cantina were heard, but Ezra could feel Hel’ios’s unspoken questions burning into his neck.

“You sure you don’t need another minute to think about that then?” Aten finally asked.

Ezra laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Usually I go with Jabba the Hutt, but I figured I probably shouldn’t seeing as he actually lives on this planet.” _And because I still have his thugs looking for me._

“You actually go around calling yourself Jabba the Hutt?” The Mandalorian scoffed.

“Not like any one here is calling themselves their real names, are they, Mando?”

It was very slight, but her body twitched. Ezra counted it as a win.

“Well, now,” Aten began shuffling the deck again. “You know how to play, right, kid? Any good?”

“Older brother taught me some. Never win against him though.”

This is what Ezra liked to call a truthful mislead. Zeb had technically taught him variations of Sabacc that the older men in _Madame Slat’s_ had not known, and it was also true that Ezra never won against Zeb when it was just the two of them playing. But _Madame Slat’s_ had been a very good teacher. Ezra almost always won against Kanan or Hera, and sometimes against Sabine. Plus, Zeb was a kriffing genius when it came to Sabacc. That or he was just an incredibly lucky bastard. When he wasn’t playing against Lando Calrissian, that is. By letting the people in the Cantina think he wasn’t that skilled at the game, Ezra would have an advantage. Tilt his head there, furrow his brows here, smile like a goon at a particularly shitty hand and BAM. Suddenly, people cared a lot less about what cards they sent his way as long as they were getting good ones themselves and thought he didn’t know how the game was played. It helped he was still technically considered a kid in most systems. And had the Force.

“Older brother, huh. And he’s rather good, then?”

“Eh,” Ezra looked at the two cards he had been handed. A Master and a Star. Negative seventeen and positive fourteen. No good this round then. He twitched his lips up into a smile. “Lost our family droid in a bet once. Took a while to get him back. Mom was furious.”

It felt…weird to be referring to them in family positions. Zeb and Hera were his crew for sure and Ezra had started considering all of them, including Chopper, his new family only a few months after saving the Wookie’s, but he’d never actually referred to them as Brother or Mom out loud before. (He had in his thoughts though. It had taken a lot longer for the terms to drift through his mind, but once they had, he couldn’t shake them. A few times in the past he’d almost called Kanan ‘Dad’ out loud. That time on Empire’s Day didn’t count.) It made his stomach do star-spins. Ezra liked how it rolled off the tongue. He’d have to be careful not to accidentally do it in front of them. Especially since things were still so awkward since Kanan had lost his sight and started doing… whatever it was he’s been doing.

(Avoiding them. Avoiding _Ezra_. That’s what he’s been doing.)

The Rodian’s whispered amongst themselves, their heads tilted together and hands covering their mouths as if that would stop Ezra from knowing they were blatantly talking about him. Behind him, Hel’ios let out a sigh and Ezra had to hold back a smirk because of how similar it sound to Hera when she thought he was about to do something so utterly stupid that she didn’t even bother to stop him. He appreciated that about her. Letting him learn from his mistakes and (usually) not making fun of them later on. Granted, any time he did something stupid on a mission he definitely got a scolding afterward, but it came a place of care, so Ezra didn’t mind. The Mandalorian and tree person remained motionless.

“Tough luck then, Mircree. You’re playing with the big kids now.”

“Oh, and that’s why everything on the table was referred to as junk?” He widened his eyes at man. Aten narrowed his right back.

The Mandalorian snorted.

Another point to him then.

(Three: bets and credits were made or placed in both pots at the beginning of every round.)

Of course, like all fun games that had a high chance of ending in disaster, the game was interrupted before it could begin – for the second time if Ezra were to include himself and Hel’ios. 

A chair slammed down in the narrow space between the second Rodian and the tree-like being. (Ezra really should’ve paid attention when they introduced themselves to Hel’ios and him.) For a split second as everyone glanced at the newcomer, Ezra almost thought it was Hondo. The Weequay wore a red vest, a gold bracelet, and had a strange looking hat. Even his boots which he’d propped up on the table looked the same. But Hondo had never managed to look so cruel. With his mouth curled in a half snarl half smile, the Weequay stared right at him, flicking his one braid over his shoulder. Ezra kept his face blank.

“Aten, my friend. Good to see you.” He glanced at the humanoid before pausing to stare at the Mandalorian. “And Lady Zorya, I really must say I’m surprised. You don’t usually throw in with such lots.”

“Argento,” she acknowledged.

“What brings you over? You never play Sabacc anymore.”

The Weequay, Argento, sighed dramatically. _Wow,_ Ezra thought, _trying to rip off Hondo’s outfit and personality._

“Ah, but you always have such cute little boys around you! And this one sitting down you do not even have claim to! Thought maybe I could win one for my collection. Again.”

Ezra felt his hands stiffen around his cards. The Force tugged at the hairs on the back of his neck.

_Change, Change, Change._

“Collection?” he asked. Everyone simultaneously stiffened. Ezra felt Hel’ios lightly brush his arm.

Argento grinned at him, leaning further back in his chair. “Slave collection. I collect only the most beautiful, exotic beings. Displaying them for all to see in my home here on Tatooine. You should be honored to be considered! I do not take interest in humans very often. Most are so incredibly bland. But you-you have this glow! Such beautiful eyes. I could tell from across the entire cantina! Perhaps you have some Diathim in your ancestry, hmm?”

“Maybe. Do you have bantha-shit in yours?”

One of the Rodian’s hissed which was weird because Ezra didn’t think they could make that kind of noise. He hoped he hadn’t broken him already. That wouldn’t be good. Argento did nothing more than grin.

“My father could certainly be referred to as such. But enough talk of ancestry. What do you say? I win, you join my collection. You win, you go free.”

Ezra snorted, forcing his hands to relax. “Listen, buddy, I’m not sure where you get your delusions, but I’m not on the market to be anybody’s slave. Especially with a shitty deal like that.”

“Kids right, Argento. Doesn’t sound like a good trade no matter how you put it.” Ezra nodded along with Aten’s words, looking intently at his cards. “I, however, have one that might interest you.”

Ezra whipped his head around to stare at the humanoid.

“Tsk, tsk. Aten, my friend. You may have all these cute little boys around you, but I only joined the game for this one-“ he pointed at Ezra- “because I knew he had no connection to you what so ever.”

Aten leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a snarl. “You saying my trades aren’t good?”

“You insist that they are? How many members of my collection have I lost due to one of your pretty little boys sneaking off with one or two? Too many, I say! Far too many! I may have been suckered in the past, but Argento is nobody’s fool!” Argento took his feet off the table, making to stand.

“Come now, Argento,” interrupted the Mandalorian. “At least hear him out. I know you love a risk. And if it doesn’t interest you, at least stay in the game. It really has been far too long.”

The Weequay sat down once more, grinning. “Lady Zorya, I knew you liked me! Fine, fine.” He made a motion with his hands. “Aten, your offer?”

“Hel’ios here is a fine make.” Aten ran a finger down the teenagers arm. Ezra’s face twitched. There was no way Hel’ios, _Luke_ , was Aten’s slave. There couldn’t be. Not with how they had seemed more like friends. Not with Luke being a moisture farmer. Though if he was a slave, Ezra could see why he might have lied about having a lucrative job (on Tatooine at least). Maybe he had just wanted to be treated like a normal person for once. But, no. He wasn’t a slave. The blond had just…followed him into a place he felt deeply uncomfortable in and rushed over to the man as soon as he had called out to him. Perhaps Aten’s greeting had had more bite to it than the friendly tone it had been coated with. ‘ _Sir’,_ Hel’ios had called him. _Shit,_ thought Ezra. _Shit, shit, shit._ “Boy’s a hard worker, strong hands. Smart enough to help with mechanic issues- I know you hate paying for that shit.”

“True. Always such a waste of money when the sandstorms ruin everything. But,” the Weequay sighed, “the boy is too boring. Too human. There is no, hmm, no _flair_ to him. Besides, if he is so great with mechanics than what is to stop him from easily breaking out? With one of my precious collection in tow, no doubt. No, no. I will not fall prey to one of your abolitionist schemes once more. It was fun for a while, I admit, but it gets so costly always searching and buying new slaves to replace the one’s stolen. Not to mention breaking the new ones in. I think I’ll stick with the ones I have now for a little bit longer, saves me effort.”

The table remained silent.

_I_ , Ezra concluded, _am in the middle of a freaking slave heist. Accidently. On my first day on this Force forsaken planet. And ruined it by having prettier eyes than the fake-slave. How is this my life?_

Then he thought, _and Luke is definitely not a moisture farmer!_

“Ah,” Argento tilted his head, “I see. You think I wouldn’t have figured it out by now? Aten. I have known you for years. You do not even own any slaves! Always winning them off a friend of a friend during some exclusive ‘Doctor’s Only’ game of sabacc. Please. You think I haven’t seen those pretty little boys of yours running chores for their mothers the day after they escape? Well, I have. I’ve never done anything about it or we wouldn’t be having this little conversation, now would we? I did owe you all those favors after all. But-“ Argento leaned forward- “It has become such a tiresome game. And I no longer owe you anything. My debt to you has been repaid.”

He snapped his finger and a shadow darted out from the stool steps over at the bar. The group tensed and Ezra was pretty sure the Mando had a hand placed on her handgun in case things went south. But there was nothing to fear. As the shadow came to stop by Argento’s side, it only held up a cup for the slaveowner to take. Ezra realized it was a little Twi’lek girl.

Her skin was mostly red, which Hera had once said was rare, but the bottom of her lekku faded into an orange then white. Pale horns protruded from around the crown of her head. Maybe she had some Zabrak in her? Ezra wasn’t positive about that; he’d only ever seen two Zabrak’s in his lifetime. Once when he was four and another time after joining the Rebels. He remembered the feeling of power, of strength that radiated off them though. There was nothing like that feeling surrounding the little girl. Her grey eyes were sunken into a thin, bruised face. Her clothes were clean for a slave, but there were several small holes in the sleeves and skirt.

She couldn’t have been much older than seven.

( _Why weren’t Mommy and Daddy coming back? They said they’d be back!_

It was cold down in the hideout room. He wanted to grab a blanket from the living room, but they’d said to stay down here until one of them came to get him. _Where were they?_

He was so so _cold.)_

_Change, Change, Change._

“How many slaves do you have?” Ezra found himself asking.

Argento’s wicked smirk came back. “Seventeen are currently on display, but I have twenty-three total.”

The unease around the table grew as Ezra leaned back in his chair. He placed his cards gently on the table then crossed his arms. The anger coming off of Luke, who’s name Ezra was sure of now (because of course Ezra would accidentally make friends with someone trying to pull off a slave heist), was palpable. It only served to fuel his own.

“Alright, let’s go back to that deal you wanted to make with me and spice it up a bit.”

“Mircree-“ Aten started.

“Let the boy speak, my friend! His choices are his own.” Ezra found himself looking into Argento’s cruel eyes. “Go on.”

“I’ll become your slave _if_ you win the final round of sabacc, but if I win the final round, I get all twenty-three of your slaves. If neither of us wins, then no trade is exchanged.”

Argento laughed. “Look who is delusional now! Little one, to put it as you said earlier, I am not ‘on the market’ to give away all of my slaves just for the one. You may be very pretty, but _that_ is a bad trade.”

Ezra shrugged. “Well, I just thought since all your slaves are for display, even if they aren’t right now, you might want someone a little more…personal.”

Luke made an odd sound as the Rodians gazed at him with horror. Aten started coughing on air, which didn’t look so good. Ezra could see his form shaking back and forth from the corner of his eye. Well, Ezra did live to surprise people, so the reactions made sense. He honestly hadn’t been sure of what he was going to say until the words were out of his mouth either. Maybe Zeb was right. He really should work on his thought to speech filter. It was, in all honesty, getting _worse._ The Mandalorian, and the tree-like being simply looked at him. Probably. It was hard to tell.

Unlike the others, Argento froze, then licked his lips.

“Personal?”

“Sure. I’ve been told I have a _very_ big mouth, you see. And my fingers are nice and long. Good for all sorts of things.” _Like getting myself out of the things my mouth gets me into._ “You do seem a little stiff. And what better way to lose all that tension than to get a little up close and personal with someone whenever you desired.”

Hera was going to kill him if she ever found out about this.

The Weequay shifted in his seat. He handed his cup back to the little girl. He shifted in his seat again. A couple danced by the table, giggling. Argento grabbed the cup and threw back the drink.

“Deal.”

Ezra felt his face shift into what Sabine liked to call his ‘bounty-hunter-with-an-explosive’ face. Which was more accurately called a ‘Sabine-with-an-explosive-in-a-room-with-clueless-Imps’ face.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chowbaso- welcome (Huttese)


	4. The Idiot's Array

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Argento,” he began, the Weequay narrowed his eyes (he’d barely been taking them off Ezra), “you must not be that great at sex.”  
> Aten threw down his cards, positive nine, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “By the suns, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slavery, mentions of sex

(Rule four went something like this: starting to the dealer’s left, a player would choose to draw one or more cards from the deck in the middle of the table but would ultimately have to trade a card from their original hand or stand. Cheating by switching a card with one up a sleeve often occurs at this stage. Cheating is not allowed and is grounds for expulsion from the game.)

Despite the rules, cheating was a common phenomenon in Sabacc. In fact, it was often encouraged. There were all sorts of contraptions people could put up their sleeves, around their necks, and any other place one could dream of that aided in switching a card for a more favorable one. Many wealthy Sabacc players looked down on the inventions. Said it made the game lose integrity. (For this last point, most other players would side-eye their game pots and scoff. If the game ever even had integrity, it sure as kriff wasn’t lost because of cheating.) Besides, it was not the wealthy players who hated these contraptions the most. No. Cheaters who had had to skillfully create their techniques, who had had to survive by cheating and lying, who built their fortunes around outsmarting their opponents, were absolutely disgusted by them. They used them anyways of course, because, hey, whatever works, works, you know?

Ezra always wondered how the galaxy felt about Jedi playing Sabacc back when there were Jedi to play against. Was it deemed a great challenge? Did it seem unfair or was it a great honor? How could one prove that a Jedi was cheating in the first place? Unless another Force-sensitive was playing, it didn’t seem like you could. Obviously Jedi could choose to not cheat, but from what Ezra had gathered from Ahsoka and Kanan, most of the time it was an accident. The Force was constantly whispering to Force-sensitives. Drifting images, noises, thoughts, or even feelings in their directions. It was why even untrained Force-sensitives had such distinguished mental shields in comparison to normal citizens. Constantly hearing passerby’s thoughts or feeling their emotions could drive anyone crazy.

Kanan hadn’t begun teaching Ezra proper shielding until months after they’d started training together. Apparently, he was naturally excellent at shielding his own mind from others, which is why Kanan hadn’t thought it was a problem, but his shielding from others was quite a different story. (Zeb had started to get very paranoid every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, but it wasn’t like Ezra had _meant_ to read his mind and then answer before he could say anything. Besides, who thinks about punching Kallus in the face that often?) The only reason Ezra was still sane despite having rather poor shields was due to the fact he had been living in the abandoned communication tower for years. Far from people and only going into town when he needed supplies or was going stir crazy. By being alone.

In any case, distractions during a Sabacc game - typically drinking as Rex had jokingly whispered to him – could cause tiny lapses in shielding and allow the Force to show images of other players cards. It was definitely not an accident that Ezra was using the Force to look at the order in which the cards in the middle of the table were laid out in. From what he could tell, there was no way he was going to win this first round. The cards he had drawn for his turn did nothing for his already poor hand, but at least it was fun to know what everyone else had. Aten was without a doubt going to win. His original two cards were already good, but now he was sitting pretty at a total of twenty-two. Zorya had two thirds of the cards necessary for the Idiot Array, but she wasn’t going to be able to get the third. It was too far down in the draw pile. The tree-being’s cards added up to a negative eighteen, so he wasn’t going to win. Argento, on the other hand, was basically in the same boat as Ezra. Terrible cards but flashing confident smirks as if the game had already been won. Ezra did not like what the similarity meant.

“Fetch our new friend here a drink,” Argento ordered. “It will be his last one for a very long time.”

The Twi’lek Zabrak girl ran off to the bar, holding up two fingers for the bartender to see. It seemed like everyone at the table had unconsciously paused in the game, awaiting the little girl’s return. Those without their backs turned watched as the Rekk spit near her feet but left his make-out session with cyber girl to get the order anyway. Ezra wanted to snarl at the male, barely managing to keep the smirk on his face. _I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._

“Arni’soyacho, Chee’ron,” he told the girl when she returned, handing him a cup of fire-water.

She blinked at him, eyes wide in surprise before walking back to her spot behind Argento. Ezra thought he could hear her sniffle over the music. The band had changed out sometime while Argento had been drawing his cards, but it was no less lively or loud, so it may have just been his imagination. Or not. Argento suddenly looked murderous. Kriff. That man had mood flips like Rex being thrown with the Force; often and with no warning.

“What’d you say to her?”

Ezra shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“You _dare_ speak to my-”

“He said ‘thank you’, Argento. Calm yourself. He does not know the culture.”

The Weequay said something in reply but Ezra only frowned. Great. Now there was a slave owner culture he was going to have to learn. Did he have to learn it if he was just going to obliterate it? Hmm, probably not. He didn’t want to accidently pick up any bad habits after all. And it wasn’t like he was actually going to be a slave owner for more than, what? Two minutes? Five at the most? Still far too long in his opinion, but necessary for his hasty, ill-thought out, probably going to go terribly plan. Kriff, how had Aten actually thought sending a fake slave in to rescue one slave at a time - with the slave owner replacing them just as quickly as they were being stolen – was ever a good idea? Was he even an actual abolitionist? Or just trying to get back at Argento for something? And why would Luke even agree to do something that would risk his own freedom?

The tree-being was quickly becoming a problem as well. They’d only spoken, what, two times? Yet every time they had, Ezra could feel a ping against his senses. Like something was reaching out to him. Poking at his relatively weak mental shields as gently as the soft Lothal grass caressing his hands. He ignored it. For now. Ezra had a game to concentrate on and the sudden spike in adrenaline fueled anxiety from the Rodian next to Ezra was not helping.

Living on the streets had taught Ezra that most people felt adrenaline doing simple tasks if said tasks were done under the eye of someone unsavory. Or dangerous. Or both. The Cantina no doubt had worse, but up until that moment the Rodian had seemed relatively okay with everyone at the table. The only explanation was if they themselves were doing something they didn’t want to get caught doing. As one, Ezra and the tree-being turned their heads to him. The Rodian squeaked and out from his sleeve fell several cards.

“Gomoro,” the tree-being sighed.

_Finally! A name!_

“Tso’ru was cheating too!” cried Gomoro.

“Uba wermo!” Shouted Tso’ru, throwing down his cards. “Now both of us are going to get thrown from the game!”

“Indeed, you are.”

Gomoro and Tso’ru looked at the Mandalorian, then back at each other. They hastily stood, putting on their jackets as they did so. “Good game, good game. Keep the credits. Good luck to you, Mircree.”

“Oh. Thank you. Er, have a nice day?” he called after their hurried forms. “Um, do we need to restart?”

Aten sighed. “All of us have gone. I say we go ahead and show our cards. Get this first round out of the way or we’ll never finish.”

“I quiet agree, my friend. So many interruptions!”

Ezra looked at the ceiling. _I hate him._

(Five: the goal is to have a final hand with a total as close to twenty-three as possible. A perfect negative twenty-three was also grounds for winning.)

Ezra wasn’t even close to winning, as he had thought. But at least he wasn’t Zorya. Out of the five remaining players, she had the furthest from a positive or negative twenty-three. A positive five but if she’d gotten The Idiot, she’d have won no matter what. So close to winning and yet still so far. Ezra himself had a negative nine. Argento was in the double digits with a total of positive sixteen. The tree-being (only one more name to learn!) had the negative eighteen. Aten won with his hand of twenty-two.

Aten threw his cards down with a victorious ‘Ha!’, his big belly knocking the table as he did so. The others grumbled a little at their losses, but Ezra was more fascinated by how the sword laying in the center shifted a little, so the hilt was pointing at him. The sword hadn’t exactly slipped his mind during the game, but it had certainly been put on the back burner with the whole slave thing going on. He gave an involuntary hum as a wave of _rightness_ swept over him. For a second it almost looked as if colors were dancing across the sheath and Ezra was distinctly reminded of the time Sabine had mentioned seeing the Manda, the spirit of the Mandalorian people, for the first and only time. _It was so beautiful, Ezra. All the colors swirling and dancing together,_ her eyes had been fixed above his head, as if watching it then and there. _I knew it wouldn’t lead me astray and it didn’t._ It had led her to her family, she had said. To the Ghost Crew.

Of course, Ezra wasn’t anywhere close to being a Mandalorian, so it definitely wasn’t that but he also knew it hadn’t been a trick of the light either. Still feeling the sword in the Force, he gently poked the hilt. He didn’t even need to prod it with his mind before a vision flashed before his eyes.

_The black lightsaber was pressed firmly against his blade. He had just barely been able to keep up with the speed of his opponent. His legs were shaking, sweat was dripping in his eyes. There was no way he was going to win this fight. The lightsaber suddenly retreated; he stumbled forward._

_“Jate,” spoke his opponent. He looked up, but his opponent had his back turned, black cloak flowing in the wind behind him._

_“Me’ven?”_

_The older man motioned for him to follow with his hand. There was nothing for him to do but stumble after him. The red grass of the land brushed against his hand, still clutching the sword._

Luke murmured something to Aten and Ezra was drawn back to the world around him. No one seemed to have noticed his absence from the present, which was good.

The song playing around the Cantina had a slow but cheerful vibe, though Ezra didn’t know what language the Toydarian was singing in. Smoke from someone’s pipe wafted into his nose. He rubbed the center of his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. The language in the vision had been Mando’a. Great. Between the tree-being’s presence in the Force, the whole failed slave heist operation with Argento, his own poorly thought out slave heist, and Hondo Ohnaka in general, Ezra really didn’t need to get involved with a sword embedded with a Mandalorian’s memories. No matter how much he wanted it. Though he was curious about the black lightsaber. He’d never heard of one being that color before. He also hadn’t thought there was anything that could withstand a lightsaber.

A breeze swept through the cantina, ruffling his hair. _Keep, keep, keep._ Kriff. The Force had never been this active with him. Why now?

_Keep, keep, keep._

_Fine,_ he thought, hand twitching toward the hilt once more. _I’ll keep the kriffing sword._ The Force settled down with a final smug brush of the mind.

“Hey, if you win, can I have the sword?”

Aten paused in grabbing the hand pot. “What.”

“If you win the entire game-“ Ezra pointed at the sword- “can I have that.”

“You really want the sword, huh.”

“I mean, it’s why I even joined in the first place.”

The humanoid shrugged, “Sure, don’t see why not. Looks pretty worthless.”

“Yeah, it does looks pretty bad.” Ezra eyed the sword again. It truly was in a terrible condition and he knew he shouldn’t get involved with whatever Force induced bantha-shit it was going to put him through, yet he craved it with every fiber of his being. If he could free twenty-three slaves and win the sword, Ezra would be content for a long while. “But I’ve found that seemingly worthless items often turn out to be the most valuable.”

“Well, in that case,” Aten laughed, “no! You can’t.”

Ezra laughed as well. One way or another, he was getting that sword. The Force had practically commanded him to. And then he was going to free the little Twi’lek Zabrak girl too.

(Six: a hand with twenty-four or higher automatically lost the round. In the event of a tie for cards closest to twenty-three, dice were rolled and the player with the highest roll won.)

Zorya shuffled the deck of cards for the second round after everyone had put in some more money or, in Ezra’s case, part of an expensive robe into the hand pot. Thankfully the round went by a lot quicker than the first. No one joined in, the sword didn’t give him another vision, and there wasn’t any commotion that would’ve put the game on pause. (Though there was that one scuffle at the booth across the Cantina. Ezra thinks someone may have pulled a gun, but no one died so it probably wasn’t that big of a deal.)

As the Mandalorian laid her cards on the table, revealing a total of nineteen, a thought entered Ezra’s head. A grin spread across his face. He knew he probably shouldn’t piss Argento off, but hey, its not like he wasn’t going to get in trouble with the dude no matter the outcome of the game.

Making sure the Twi’lek Zabrak girl wasn’t in hearing range (she’d gone back into the shadows of the center bar) Ezra made a show of leaning back into his chair, kicking his feet up on the table in mimicry of the slave owner.

“So, Argento,” he began, the Weequay narrowed his eyes (he’d barely been taking them off Ezra), “you must not be that great at sex.”

Aten threw down his cards, positive nine, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “By the suns, kid.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Look, I was just thinking abut it and who would sell their slaves, the over twenty slaves they have, just to get some?” Ezra nonchalantly revealed his cards, twenty-three. “Someone who must not be great at sex, that’s who.”

The Weequay snarled. “I have yet to see your point, little boy.”

“My _point_ is that you clearly haven’t had sex in a while, otherwise you wouldn’t be jumping at the first chance at it, no matter the potential cost to yourself. But why would you be so desperate for it unless no ones been willing to help you with your little problem?” Ezra frowned, then tilted his head. “Do you have a problem getting it up? Is that why no one’s willing?”

“Weequay’s need no help getting _it up_ , boy.”

Unfortunately, Ezra knew this was true. Hondo had somehow gotten it into his head that he should be the one to give Ezra the sex talk. Why? Ezra had no clue, especially since it had taken place only two days ago when they’d left Naboo. Really, what part of fleeing from a planet made one think about giving a sixteen year old the sex talk? It was highly inappropriate, even for Hondo. At least it had been informative. Maybe too informative. Ezra now knew more about the biological factors of sex in a few too many species than he thought necessary. At least there hadn’t been pictures. Thank the Force there had been no pictures. Ezra shuddered just thinking about it.

“But don’t worry,” Argento smirked. “I’ll be sure to teach you everything you need to know once I win you.”

His cards were also a total of twenty three. Ezra rolled his eyes. Of course.

“Dal’nii, do you also have a twenty-three?”

“I do not,” the tree being answered Zorya. Ezra perked up. Finally, a name! “Unfortunately, my cards are over that. Here is the dice for the tie breaker.”

“After you, _Master._ ”

The pleasure coming of the slave owner at being called such was disgusting. Ezra twitched his fingers as the Weequay rolled, using the Force to make it the lowest possible roll.

“You still haven’t actually said if you were any good at sex.” He rolled the dice. With the Force, he rolled a higher number. “Also, has anyone ever told you that you dress like a Hondo Ohnaka wannabe?”

Argento merely barred his teeth.

(Seven: the only unbeatable hand was called an Idiot’s Array.)

Winning the hand pot was a relief. Now he had a little bit of money on hand no matter who won so long as it wasn’t Argento. It wasn’t a lot since the game wasn’t supposed to be high stakes ( _whoops_ ) but it’d be enough to buy Ezra a sandwich at least. Or entrance to a different game. Which ever he felt like first.

Kriff, he could really go for one of Zeb’s burgers. The Lasat was terrible at baking, allergic to making healthy food, and only slightly decent at remembering the groceries list back when they’d had to pick up supplies for themselves. But by the Force, give the Lasat the ingredients for a burger and it was like the light side of the Force had appeared in a tangible, delicious dinner. It wasn’t like they were able to eat them that often, however. Meat was pricey and no one on the Ghost Crew had anything to do with the food supplies delivered to Atollon, so it was only luck when they managed to get their hands on the ingredients.

And now Ezra was hungry. Hungrier anyway. Guess he was spending his money on food first. He’d have to ask Luke if there were any decent, cheap places around seeing as the Cantina was probably not the best place to linger. This was, of course, assuming Luke would still want to talk to him after this. Looking like someone trying to become a slave owner was probably not the best impression he’d ever given. Especially since Luke had already pegged him as a thief. _At least I’m cute?_ _That has to count for something, right?_

Dal’nii dealt the cards. For someone who didn’t appear to move that much, the being sure knew how to shuffle quickly. Their hands seemed to almost blur and soon Ezra was looking down at his cards with a raised eyebrow. These were…really good cards. Unbelievably good. Ezra looked up at them, but Dal’nii was focusing on choosing a new card from the center pile. Ezra shrugged.

They made their rounds switching cards. Ezra only needed to change one, though he made it look like he exchanged a fair amount with flicks of the wrist. He could tell that Dal’nii had a negative twenty three, Zorya close on his heels, Aten with a nine, and Argento with an eighteen. The Weequay took his feet off the table. Ezra copied him. Dal’nii revealed his hand and Argento stood up.

“Winning with a negative twenty-three, my friend, who would’ve thought!” Argento leaned over the tree-being’s cards. “How unfortunate that I did not gain a new slave though! Alas, at least you are free for a day more, little boy.”

Ezra’s smile was all teeth. “It seems that way. But Argento-”

The Weequay narrowed his eyes.

“I think you’ll find I’m actually the winner of this game.” He revealed his cards. The Idiot’s Array. It really was fitting for him. “Sorry. Maybe you should make better deals in the future.”

The next few seconds went as one would expect on a desert planet orbited by two suns and known for being both a slave planet and a playground for outlaws.

Argento reached behind him. The Force whispered a warning, and, in a heartbeat, Ezra was jumping across the table, kicking a gun out of the Weequay’s hand. He dropped to the floor and swept Argento’s legs out from under him. Grabbing his own gun, Ezra stood and aimed it at the Weequay’s head. The Cantina was silent.

“Argento,” he tsked. “I thought we had a gentlemen’s agreement!”

“My friend,” he chuckled nervously, “there is no need for such actions.”

“Hmm, the gun I just kicked out of your hand indicates otherwise.”

“What do you want, _kung?_ ” he spit at Ezra’s feet. “You wish to take all my slaves? My source of income?!”

Ezra shrugged. “Find a better income. Get up.”

The Weequay stood. Ezra kept his gun aimed.

“This is how things are going to go. You’re going to take me back to wherever you keep your slaves, and then your going to give them all to me. As we agreed.”

“Do not forget about the slave chips or their control devices,” Dal’nii added gracefully.

“The wha- Yeah, let’s not forget about those.”

Argento was practically shaking with rage. “And if I don’t?”

“We can go to Jabba. I hear he hates when people break deals. Or I can put a blaster through your head. I’m sure lots of people know who you are so it shouldn’t be too hard to find where you keep your slaves. Either way, no damage done to me. It’s your choice.”

Ezra swept his eyes around as Argento internally battled with himself. Most people were already going back to what they were doing since there wasn’t a brawl or a dead body. The musicians were starting a new song with people dancing; though they kept a wide berth from this side of the Cantina. The bartender was shooting daggers at him, wiping down glasses once more as cyber-lady made her way to the exit. Ezra’s eyes lingered on her; something was a bit off in how she was walking. Too casually, maybe. She was holding something in her hand. He cast his suspicions to the side. Hopefully she had nothing to do with him.

Down in the shadows the little Twi’lek Zabrak girl was cowering. Ezra made sure to shoot her a reassuring smile before looking at the people he’d been playing with. Dal’nii was sitting in the same position, hands clasped together on the table, looking as serene as one could be. The rest were standing though. Zorya with her hand on her gun, Aten holding…something. Was that a taser? It looked like a taser. Luke was staring with wide eyes, hands balled into fists. Ezra made sure to wink at him. He almost missed the blush that rose to Luke’s cheeks in the dim lighting. That was cute. But then Luke was glaring at him, so it was probably for the best when he refocused on Argento.

Ezra knew very little about Tatooine, but he did know about Jabba the Hutt. He was one of the most powerful Hutts in recent history, with the largest slave operation to boot. He was greedy. He hungered for more power but was very careful in how he got it. Jabba the Hutt was patient. He cared very little about the lives of others (Ezra heard he had even had his own son murdered a few years before) but he absolutely despised when deals were broken. A strange thing to despise when you were surrounded by death, misery, and pain inflicted by your own doing, but hey, at the moment Ezra was just glad he could use the rumor to his advantage. Argento wouldn’t want to go before the Hutt as the perpetrator of breaking his deal with Ezra. Nor did he particularly seem like he wanted to die. Not that Ezra was actually planning to straight up murder him, but the Weequay didn’t know that.

“Well?”

“ _Fine._ If you will lower your weapon, I will take you to meet my collection.”

“Nice. Okay, let me just grab the rest of my winnings real quick-”

Aten held up his hand. “I’m sure you’ll have your hands full soon enough, Mircree. I gotta get back to the clinic anyhow, duty calls and all that, so I can watch your things for you there.”

“Right. And you want to help me why?”

“Kept me from trading my own slave!” The humanoid grinned as he put an arm around Luke. “Could say I feel like I owe you one. Take Hel’ios with you. He’ll show you the way from Argento’s.”

“I will also be joining you.”

Ezra eyed the Mandalorian. “Will you now.”

“Of course. Argento and I have much to discuss. I will not cause you any issues.”

Argento snarled at her. Reaching into the Force, Ezra couldn’t sense any deception on her end, but it was hard to tell. Beskar, as Kanan had once told him with Sabine grinning smugly down at where he laid collapsed on some training mats, nulled an individual’s presence in the Force when they wore it. Thoughts and feelings barely filtered through and Zorya was wearing very good beskar. Ezra took Argento’s displeasure at the turn of event as a sign to allow her along. As for Luke…Ezra didn’t know what Aten was trying to get out of him. At least if he was at a clinic there was the potential to have all twenty-three slaves get those control chips removed.

“Fine. You can ride with Argento since you _apparently_ have things that can’t wait to be discussed later. Hel’ios? Wanna give me a ride?”

Luke shuffled nervously. “I’m not sure if this is-“

“Come on, _Hel’ios_ ,” Ezra interrupted. “This’ll be fun.”

The other boy grimaced but finally nodded his head in assent. Aten let his arm drop.

Ezra felt some tension ease from his shoulders. Even if he didn’t trust Agen or Zorya or even Luke, he _did_ like the other boy. He hadn’t needed to offer Ezra a ride to the Cantina, but he had. He was nice. As nice as someone could be from Tatooine. And if he was willingly acting the part of a slave to try and free even one person, even if the plan was really really dumb, then he was the kind of person Ezra could trust just enough to lead him to a clinic to hopefully free twenty-three slaves.

He cast a longing glace at the sword before sighing. Time for the real work to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arni’soyacho- thank you very much (Ryl)  
> Chee’ron- warrior (Ryl)  
> Uba wermo- you idiot  
> Jate- good (Mando’a)  
> Me’van- Huh? Expression of bewilderment or disbelief (Mando’a)  
> Kung- scum (Huttese)


End file.
